The Long Road Home
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #56 In the "Knowing" stories, Earth changes brought Spock and his family to Phoenix, where young Sobek joined them when his father died. "Seventh Inning" showed why Sobek became disillusioned with Spock and the Yanashites. Now a senseless act of violence disrupts Spock's family and shatters his faith in the Shiav. (Warning: Character death)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Sobek had changed. It was a very troubled young Vulcan who came to live with Spock's family in Arizona. After losing his father in a tsunami, he had been rejected by his mother and his betrothed for associating with Yanashites. But even before those unfortunate occurrences, Sobek had grown strangely distant toward Spock, rejecting several invitations to his home and Yanashite functions.

Though it was now clear that he had lost all interest in the Shiav, Sobek was not behaving in a traditional way, either. Lauren called him "moody", and with good reason. Nothing satisfied him. He did not like his new school. At home he had been given use of the guest room, and he spent most of his free time there. Sensitive to his grief, Spock attempted to counsel him and include Sobek in every family activity, but the youth consistently resisted Spock's efforts.

All this presented a serious problem. Unless Sobek's attitude changed, he would never become a Yanashite and partake of the Living Water which preserved Vulcan males from the worst effects of pon farr. Soon he would be sixteen. He was a robust young man whose first mating crisis might come at any time, and though Lauren had experimented with a supplement for Spock's use, the capsules had not worked very well, even on a bonded half-human. Here on Earth there were no unattached Vulcan females of an appropriate age to bond with Sobek. Spock had checked Earth's databank.

One night after James and Teresa were in bed, Spock asked Lauren to come outside. Her leg, crushed in the Big Quake, had healed to the point where she no longer needed a brace. She limped only slightly as they walked under a bright spring moon to the very back of their acre.

There, far from inquisitive ears, Spock told her, "We must discuss Sobek."

The subject matter did not surprise her. She merely nodded and said, "I don't like the look in his eyes."

Spock explained his deepest concern and finished by disclosing, "I will take Sobek back to Vulcan with me. Perhaps his mother and his young bondmate will not accept him, but he's still a minor. I can place him in the keeping of the State."

At the thought of Spock's impending departure, tears glistened in Lauren's eyes, but she merely said, "Well, that's good news. Maybe he misses Vulcan. Maybe that's his whole problem. Why don't you go tell him now?"

Spock doubted that Sobek was merely homesick, but he no longer knew the young Vulcan's mind. After returning to the house, he acted on Lauren's advice and went to Sobek's door. Contemporary music could be heard from inside, so he knocked loudly enough to be heard.

Sobek came to the door, his expression guarded.

"We need to speak," Spock said.

Once inside, Sobek lowered the music's volume. Spock suggested that they sit down, and steeling himself, spoke as plainly as a Vulcan father to his maturing son.

Sobek seemed more resentful than embarrassed by the biological discussion. "You think I'll hurt your wife," he accused. "That's why you want me out of here."

There was no denying that very real concern. With deep regret Spock said, "I have no other choice. You must travel with me to Vulcan, and as matters now stand, you will not be returning."

Sobek's hands clenched and anger flared from his brown eyes, but he accepted the verdict in silence.

oooo

The following morning was jewel-like in its beauty. A rather poetic thought, but Spock knew his mother would have been pleased by it. In his re-education she had wanted him to "appreciate beauty and poetry and laughter".

It was Saturday and the children were home from school. As he stood out front in the sun, his thoughts strayed to last night's conversation with Sobek. It had not ended satisfactorily, so Spock would try speaking to him, once again, after he returned from today's trip to the Vatican. For now he watched Lauren crouch beside a hole in which she was incorporating organic material for a rosebush as pink as her flushed cheeks.

She glanced up at him and smiled. "Paco better not eat these, or we'll have roast burro for dinner."

"Mom!" protested Teresa, who was kneeling beside her, watching.

Lauren's smile widened. It was good to see her relaxed and happy after all the turmoil of the quakes. This past week she had been cleared for duty and was enjoying the research at Starfleet's Phoenix medical center.

Eyeing his suit, she asked him, "All ready to go?"

"Almost." It would be his last trip to Rome before he returned to Vulcan, and this time he was taking James along. Lauren had suggested the idea as a way to strengthen Spock's bond with the boy. All James ever talked about was Jim Kirk's ranch in Idaho.

Rechecking the data on his wrist phone, Spock discovered that rain was now forecast in Rome. As he went into the house for his overcoat, Teresa followed along and stopped him in the living room with a hug.

"Daddy, can't I go, too?" she begged. "Can't I?"

All week she had been pleading with him.

"Today is your brother's turn," Spock said yet again. "Next time I will take you."

She tipped back her head and gazed up at him sadly. "I'll miss you."

"I'll be back in a few hours," he reminded her, fingering the wavy hair as golden as her mother's.

"No, I mean when you go to Vulcan."

"I will miss you, too, "Spock told her. Knowing that Simon had decided to remain at Julliard, he said, "I will miss each and every one of you."

"But me most of all," she said with a squeeze. Then she sobered. "Don't go. I have a bad feeling…"

"Not Robby again," Spock said, referring to Teresa's mysterious visitor back at the beach house in California.

"No, not him. Just a funny feeling, that's all."

Endeavoring to make light of it, he said, "If it is funny, you should be laughing."

She understood his attempt at humor and giggled. They always seemed to understand one another.

"Would you like to fetch my overcoat?" he asked.

"Sure!"

As she ran off, James appeared in his suit, satisfactorily groomed.

"Have you seen Sobek?" Spock asked him, for the Vulcan had not come to breakfast.

"No," James replied.

Spock considered having a brief word with Sobek now, but he knew they must leave or risk arriving late at the Vatican.

Teresa arrived with his coat and presented her cheek for a kiss. With his Vulcan upbringing, affectionate displays came hard for Spock. Feeling awkward, he touched his lips to her face, then they were out the door.

Lauren came over as they were about to board the skimmer, her arms lifted, her hands caked with dirt. Out of consideration for his clothes, Spock refused her embrace.

She pretended to be annoyed. "Fussy Vulcan! Get out of here and try to be back in time for dinner. T'Beth and Aaron are driving in from Scottsdale with some kind of news."

Spock settled behind the controls, and the skimmer arced toward the Phoenix Transporter Depot.

Lauren watched the skimmer until it disappeared into the distance. A lonely ache settled into her heart, but she forced herself out of the mood. Spock was not leaving for Vulcan yet. He was coming back.

After the rosebush was planted, she left Teresa in the yard and went inside to wash her hands. Finishing up at the kitchen sink, she turned to reach for a towel.

A person was standing a few feet away.

Startled, Lauren jumped a little, then felt foolish. "Sobek! You scared me for a second."

He did not smile, but these days he never did. The young Vulcan's face was even icier than usual and something about his eyes was downright menacing. Instinctively Lauren backed a step and bumped into the counter.

"You are all the same," Sobek said through his teeth. "On Vulcan they did not want me because I was going to be a Yanashite. Now you are sending me away because I am _not_ going to be a Yanashite."

"Sobek…" but she did not know what more to say.

"He thinks I will hurt you."

"Of course you won't," Lauren said, but her pulse was racing.

Sobek's hand moved and she saw the long, sharp kitchen knife gripped tightly by his fingers. Her heart lurched and began to slam wildly. She thought of Teresa outside and hoped against hope that her daughter would stay put.

"Sobek…" The name caught in her throat. "Sobek, listen…"

He lunged for her.

She brought her arms up and tried to fend him off, but she was no match for his alien strength. The knife sank into her chest. She cried out. His hand clamped over her mouth. He shoved her to the floor and as she struggled, the blade found her body again and again…

Outside, Teresa stopped what she doing and listened. The sound—it had been terrible—almost like a strangled scream.

All morning she had felt uneasy and now a chill of fear shook her as she called, "Mom…?"

She heard the chickens out back. She heard a neighbor's dog barking.

"Mom!" she shouted again, louder. Then, though her father was gone, "Daddy!"

No one answered.

Something told her to run, but she somehow knew that her mother was in danger. For a full minute she wavered. Then as if by their own accord, her legs slowly moved her toward the house...

There was a line at the depot. Travel was always heavy on weekends, and it took several minutes for Spock and James to reach the counter. Overcoat held in one arm, Spock was about to give the clerk his itinerary code when a shockwave of terror struck him. For a moment he stood frozen, unable to speak or move.

"Sir?" said the clerk. "Sir, I need to know your destination."

Abruptly something inside Spock severed. Pain locked the breath in his lungs and he slumped over the counter in shock.

"Father!" Jamie's voice seemed very distant.

The woman behind the counter reached out and touched Spock on the shoulder. "Sir, are you alright?"

With an effort he straightened and fought to clear his mind. The precious connection to his bondmate had broken. All at once Lauren was gone, leaving in her place a raw wound.

"Father, Father, what's wrong?"

Spock tried to think logically. He was holding up the line of travelers. Meanwhile, Pope Augustine was awaiting him at Vatican City. It would not look well for the Yanashite envoy to be late.

"Sir…"

Using his wrist phone, he quickly called home. No one answered. Perhaps Lauren was still outside, but it was at most a dim hope. Grasping his son's hand, he started for the door. And stopped. No, a transporter would be faster. Hurrying back to the counter, he pushed aside the person who had been next in line.

"Excuse me," he said, "but this is an emergency."

They transported directly to the front yard. Spock came out of the beam and handed James his overcoat. The boy was fighting back tears of confusion and disappointment.

Urgently Spock told him, "Stay here. I'm going into the house alone. Do not follow me under any circumstances. If I don't come back soon, go to the neighbor's house. Go to _anyone's_ house, but not here. Do you understand?"

James nodded his head and sniffled. "But why?"

Spock turned from his son and looked at the Spanish style dwelling that had been their home since December. The pain inside him twisted. His stomach churned. Then swiftly he went inside and locked the door behind him.

A most unpleasant odor hung in the air. Though his mind immediately categorized it as blood, his heart refused its implications.

"Lauren!" The cry tore at his throat. "Teresa!"

Stillness answered.

Slowly now, Spock began to cross the living room, glancing here and there, but finding nothing out of the ordinary. Calling out once again, he approached the kitchen door. There in the doorway he came to a halt and stared. Young Sobek was sitting on the floor, his back propped against some cabinets, his head lolled to one side.

Spock saw the knife in his limp hand, the deeply sliced wrists, the green blood pooled over the floor.

The bleeding had stopped. Sobek was dead.

Dreading what else he would find, Spock fully entered the kitchen.

Lauren lay crumpled on the floor by the sink. Teresa was sprawled beside her. Their clothes were red with blood, their faces gray, their eyes open wide from the horror of their last moments.

For a while Spock just stared, uncomprehending, his mind empty of all thought. Then step by step he walked toward them and dropping down on his knees, gathered their lifeless bodies and clutched them close.

oooo

"Father," T'Beth called softly into her spare bedroom.

The door was ajar. A few dim shafts of light escaped the shuttered window blinds. She could see him sitting in the corner chair, his dark head bowed.

T'Beth felt like a child again, gathering the courage to enter the darkened room where her grandmother lay deathly ill. "Father," she repeated, and went in.

The remote stranger in the chair did not look at her. Crouching down before him, she placed a hand on his knee, hoping to establish eye contact. For the briefest instant he glanced at her without expression, then looked away.

T'Beth felt tears starting to well up again and fought the tightness in her throat. "It's time for the funeral Mass. Are you coming?"

She already knew the answer. The slight negative shake of his head did not surprise her.

Giving his knee a squeeze, she stood and straightened her Starfleet uniform. "I just thought you might have changed your mind. Aaron will stay here with you. Aaron and Bethany."

Gazing into empty space, he said, "Gardenias."

Her heart lurched. Those flowers had been Lauren's favorite. She even wore them at their wedding. "Yes, there'll be gardenias. Lots of them—for Lauren and for Teresa."

Then tears began to stream down and she rushed out. The grisly murders were a fresh, crushing pain, made worse by her father's withdrawal. Sometimes she felt as if she had lost all three of them.

T'Beth took Simon and James with her to St. Luke Church in Phoenix. A hearse was parked out at the curb. The boys' uncle, Father Laurence Fielding, met them at the main door wearing black vestments and embraced each one of them. He had traveled all the way from Gamma Vertas IV to offer his sister's funeral Mass.

Inside, the church was crowded with Starfleet uniforms and neighbors and children from the parish school. T'Beth grasped Jamie's hand and with Simon beside her, walked to the front where family and close friends sat. They squeezed into a pew with Lauren's mother, Doctor McCoy, and the Kirks.

From somewhere behind, she heard a voice whispering, "Where is he? Isn't Spock coming?"

An organ was playing a somber hymn. T'Beth tried to concentrate on the flowers—her prominently displayed gardenias and other arrangements sent by mourners. Then they stood as Mass began, and two pink caskets were rolled into the area directly in front of the sanctuary. Father Larry blessed the caskets with holy water. At that point T'Beth and her brothers came forward and covered them with the white cloths that signified baptismal garments. They had been encouraged to place some devotional object atop the cloths. James put Teresa's First Communion rosary on her undersized casket, and on Lauren's casket T'Beth placed a chipped statue of Jesus that had survived the San Francisco earthquake.

After the reading of the Gospel, Father Larry eulogized his twin sister "Laurie" and his niece. His voice choked at the end as he recited the bedtime prayer Lauren had written for her children.

"Lord of Heaven, as I sleep,

Let my dreams be pure and sweet.

Bless those who are dear to me,

And keep us ever close to Thee."

And in conclusion he added, "Laurie, Teresa, you have passed to a place where no one can ever hurt you again, to a place of purity and sweetness. God bless you, who are so dear to us."

The remainder of the service passed in a blur of tears. After Mass, they accompanied the caskets to the Catholic cemetery for the prayers of interment. Then it was over.

James sobbed in the car as T'Beth drove back to her home in Scottsdale.

"It will be alright," she told him.

"No," he cried, "no, it won't!"

"They're with God. You heard your Uncle Larry."

But he would not be consoled.

"Pray for them," Simon said low. "And pray for Father, too."

A grim group gathered together at the house. T'Beth set out food and left Aaron in charge of the liquor. She would have very much liked a drink, but poured herself soda instead. In a corner of the living room, Father Larry held his mother—Lauren's mother—while she broke down and wept. There were tears on his face, too.

Antonia Kirk stayed close by Jim, grief-stricken over her dear friend's death. "When I think of the way I shouted at Laurie last summer…"

"When Teresa sent those flowers to T'Beth," Jim somberly recalled, "in my name…"

Antonia said, "She meant well, the poor child. Remember the way her father stood with her?"

"Spock always did."

T'Beth heard Simon raise his voice in irritation, and turned around. Her seventeen-year-old brother was trying to wheedle an alcoholic drink out of Aaron.

Sighing, she went over and said, "Aaron, why not give him some wine. A little wine won't hurt, will it?"

She wondered if her father would approve. Did it matter? Everybody was too dazed by grief to care, wandering around in their own private hell. The one person who could have drawn them together sat like a granite statue in the back room.

Holding a glass of bourbon, Doctor McCoy slipped an arm around her waist and asked, "Where is he?"

"Off in a bedroom." She nodded toward the hall. "It's as if something inside him is broken. That's how it's been ever since he found them. He was covered in their blood, so at first the police thought he did it. Can you imagine? By law there'll still be an inquest, but everyone knows it was a murder-suicide."

McCoy looked every year of his age as he drew in a slow breath, then let it out. "It was all over the news. Lurid. Like a scandal."

T'Beth took a swallow of her soda. "Yeah. They were really playing the Vulcan angle, the Yanashite angle. It makes me sick. All it does is stir up crazies like CUE."

"Clean Up Earth," McCoy said sourly. "Don't get me started on that hate group." He sighed deeply. "I want to see Spock."

T'Beth led him down the hallway and found the bedroom door closed. Knocking lightly, she opened it. Seeing that her father was still in the chair, she left them alone together.

For a moment McCoy stood in the dim light by the door, then he went over to the Vulcan. "Well, old friend…" he said. Spock focused on the turnbuckle at the shoulder of McCoy's uniform. "It doesn't get any rougher than this. Laurie was quite a lady. And Teresa…" Swallowing hard, he held out the bourbon to Spock. "Here, have a drink. It sometimes helps."

The Vulcan stared at it.

McCoy drew out his medscanner and passed it over the rigid figure.

The neutral look on Spock's face changed to annoyance and he said, "There is nothing the hell wrong with me."

McCoy checked the scanner. Its readings were, in fact, quite normal for a Vulcan. Putting a hand on Spock's shoulder, he said, "Good. Get angry. It's natural."

McCoy left the glass of bourbon within reach, just in case.

Back in the living room, people continued to mill around, speaking of Lauren and Teresa in hushed tones. And of Spock.

After McCoy returned with a negative report, it took Jim some time to gather his courage and venture down the hallway. He sat on Spock's bed and faced the Vulcan in his chair, but Spock did not give him so much as a glance. Jim had been thinking a lot of his own son David, murdered by the Klingons. Though he had grieved afterward, he knew it did not compare to what Spock was going through now. Jim had hardly known David, but Lauren had been Spock's wife and bondmate for eighteen years. And among all of Spock's children, Jim knew that Teresa had touched him in a special way.

"Spock," he began, "Antonia and I are so sorry. She can't seem to stop crying. Lauren was such a good friend to her. And Teresa…" Picturing his own little Tru back home, he felt his control slipping. "Teresa was as sweet as they come. Toni's praying for her, for both of them."

Spock's haunted eyes moved, but he did not look in Jim's direction.

Jim sensed that he was getting nowhere and decided to wrap it up. "I'll leave you alone, but first I need to know something. About Jamie. Would you like me to take him for a while? We could even enroll him in school at Pinehaven."

Spock turned suddenly and looked straight at him. "Take the boy. He has always preferred you."

Jim could hardly believe his ears. "That's not true. It's the ranch he likes. The horses."

The Vulcan's gaze seared him.

Shaken, Jim headed back to the living room, took T'Beth aside, and repeated what her father had said. The former Starfleet admiral, the former captain of a starship admitted, "I don't know what to do. Should I go ahead and take Jamie? I swear, Spock looked as if he _hated_ me."

T'Beth felt the weight of responsibility mounting until she feared it would crush her. Since the murders, Father had been worse than useless. All of the funeral arrangements had fallen to her. She was the one who—with Aaron—had gone to the mortuary and performed the wrenching identification of the bodies. And of course she had to deal with the scene of the crime, contacting the cleaning service, entering the kitchen with their representative and showing them what needed to be done. Remembering it all, she closed her eyes and felt tears sliding down her cheeks. The glass dropped from her fingers and shattered on the floor.

Then somehow her husband's arms were around her. For a long moment she held him tight while anger began to build. Abruptly she broke free and strode down the hallway.

"Look," she would say to her father, "Jamie is _your_ son, not Jim's! He's my brother! We're too worn out for all of this! You aren't the only one hurting!" Then she would get him out of that damn chair, even if she had to drag him out.

T'Beth flung open the door and turned to confront him.

The chair was empty. He was gone.

oooo

Spock pressed his hands to the door's entry pad, and the lock disengaged. He could hear the phone chiming inside the house, but he did not go in. Standing on the porch, it seemed to him that his heart had slowed dangerously, thudding heavily, in an almost human beat. The sensation made him dizzy and nauseous. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the cool wood of the door.

The sound of a child's laughter roused him.

 _"Daddy…"_

Teresa!

He whirled and stood staring into the vacant front yard. Each ragged breath tore at the band of grief that was cinched tightly around his chest. It took a full minute to pull himself together. Then he entered the house, and this time even his acute Vulcan sense could detect no smell of blood. The service T'Beth hired had done a thorough job. He thought of Lauren and Teresa's lifeblood scoured up by strangers and dumped like something dirty into the trash.

 _"Daddy…"_

Again he heard the sweet voice, but this time only in his memory.

 _"Daddy, can't I go, too?"_

She had wanted so badly to accompany him. If only he had let her come. But no. He had put her off with a clumsy kiss until "next time". Only for Teresa there would be no "next time". He had ignored her tender pleading. He had walked away and left her to die horribly.

Tears pricked the back of his eyes. He fought them.

 _"Fussy Vulcan."_

Lauren. Aisha. To think that he had refused her embrace. What did it matter that her hands were dirty? He had never loved her enough…never loved either of them enough. He had welcomed a murderer into their home. He had angered Sobek and so they paid with their lives.

The phone's sudden chime startled him. Numbly he walked over to it and read the caller ID. Aaron and Cristabeth Pascal. He turned off the ringer so he would not be bothered again.

Once more the house was still.

Spock turned and made his way to the kitchen in slow stages, stopping twice. Then somehow he was standing where he had found them, their bodies sprawled on the floor, torn and bloody.

A chill shook him. Once more, his heart slowed. He felt the dizzy, sick feeling returning and went to the sink. Gripping the edge of the counter, he stared into the basin and noticed an infinitesimal trace of dirt that had not quite washed down the drain. Reaching out, he touched it and rubbed the fine grit between his fingers. Soil from planting the rosebush. She had come here to wash her hands—the same dirty hands he had pushed away from him. _Fussy Vulcan._ She had only wanted to wash her hands…

The burden of grief sent Spock to the floor. There was no strength left to fight it, or the tears, which he had kept so carefully in check. For a long time he lay weeping on the cold, hard tile, floundering alone in a sea of pain, so very alone.

Where was the strength he had experienced on Vulcan when it seemed that Simon would be murdered? That day, he had faced his own death as well—fearlessly, buoyed by a faith that now seemed distant and unreal. Was that the crucial difference? Living had always been harder for him than dying, and bereft of faith, this burden of grief felt like a living death.

Is this what Sobek had been feeling? Is this what drove him to murder? To suicide?

oooo

In her living room, T'Beth paced back and forth while Aaron sat in a chair, looking on. Evening had fallen and the house was empty of guests. Bethany was snug in her bed, asleep. On T'Beth's advice, Jamie had returned to the ranch with Jim, taking Simon along for a few days' visit before going back to Juilliard. She thought it might do the boys good to be together, away from Phoenix, away from their father.

"This is crazy," she said. "If I hadn't checked the satellite image and seen Spock's skimmer on the pad, I wouldn't have believed he's back at that house. We should never have brought that skimmer over here."

"We can't hold him prisoner," Aaron pointed out.

Stopping short, she stared at him. How could be so calm? "What the heck is he doing over there? Why won't he answer the phone? What if…" She choked on the words and carefully started over. "Aaron, I just lost Lauren and my baby sister. I can't stand to lose him, too. What if he…"

"Spock won't," Aaron said firmly. "He's a Yanashite, remember?"

How odd that Aaron would choose her father's faith as an argument against suicide. Although Spock did not know it, Aaron had always considered his venture into religion as an abdication of scientific principles, as a kind of professional failure. In Aaron's eyes, a true scientist would never embrace the "god myth".

Aaron rose and drew her into an embrace. She desperately needed the closeness. She felt so cold and frightened that she began to tremble.

"He's so changed," she said. "It's as if I don't know him anymore."

Aaron's hand caressed her back with slow, soothing strokes. "It's the grief. He's strong. He'll come through it."

"But…"

He drew back a little and the tenderness in his brown eyes helped to ward off the chill. " _Amoureux_ ," he said, using the French endearment that always charmed her. "You are not his mother."

She sighed. "No. He's lost her, too."

Without acknowledging her words, he continued. "You, however, _are_ soon to be someone's mother, and for that reason you must try not to upset yourself."

Her hand moved to her flat belly and she thought of the new life growing within her. Aaron's child. Only the two of them knew. They had planned to tell Father and Lauren on the day of the murders.

Gently Aaron kissed the side of her mouth, so that his beard tickled her. Then again, fully on the lips. T'Beth responded in a way that reminded her that she was still very much alive.

"I'll check on him." he promised. "Tomorrow."

They turned out the lights and went to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _…An insistent chiming drew Spock out of a deep, self-imposed sleep. How could that be, he wondered, certain that he had turned off the phone. Then he recognized the ring pattern—Lauren's personal ring—coming from a hand phone beside the bed._

 _He reached out in the darkness and grabbed for it. With fumbling hands he opened the channel and spoke. "Yes! Spock here!"_

 _He heard static. "Hello?" he said. "Who is there?"_

 _A voice came to him, as if from a great distance. "Spock…Spock, is that you?" Lauren's voice! "Spock…Spock…" The connection crackled and faded to nothing._

 _"Lauren! Lauren!" Sitting bolt upright, he shouted the name over and over, but the phone was dead…_

Spock woke from the dream suddenly, tears choking him, his chest aching with loss. In the dark he gathered Lauren's pillow into his arms, inhaling its faint perfumed scent, tormented by the sweet lingering reminder, yet desperate for it. When he could no longer bear the pain, he escaped once more into sleep, forcing it on himself in the Vulcan way. Time passed, measured only by the deep corner of his mind that never fully lost awareness.

 _…There was a sound of music. Spock found himself in the beach house, the day of T'Beth's wedding. The furniture had been pushed back. At Doctor McCoy's request, Simon played "The Tennessee Waltz" on his violin—the same piece of music McCoy once requested for a dance with Lauren at Spock's own wedding reception. Only this time, McCoy danced with T'Beth._

 _Spock turned to Lauren and they began to waltz in a fashion, careful of her injured leg held in a brace. As they moved to the music, he gazed into her exquisite blue eyes and felt her love reaching deep inside him, to the very center of their bond. It was stirring their sexual attraction._

 _Suddenly she laughed and came to a stop. "I'm afraid that's all my leg can manage." And rising up she whispered in his ear, "Later, for you. Look over by the door, Daddy. I think someone's waiting."_

 _He turned and saw his youngest daughter watching the dance, hands clasped at her chest, clearly enthralled._

 _Spock went to the girl and bowing with decorum, said, "My Lady Teresa, may I have the pleasure…?"_

 _"Oh, Daddy," she giggled and sprang forward, eager for the opportunity._

 _He positioned her, then stepped off. Of course she did not know what she was doing, but did not seem to care as their feet tangled again and again._

 _Eventually the music ended. Flushed with happiness, Teresa pulled his head down and kissed him on the cheek…_

Spock gasped and opened his eyes. For a moment he lay very still, feeling the moisture of her lips as sunlight streamed across the bed. An agony gripped his throat and spread through his chest, all the way down to his heart.

From outside came a strange, wheezing cry that seemed to echo through the house. Distracted from his misery, Spock sat up.

 _Paco!_

All these days he had not given a thought to the little burro that was so special to Teresa…or to the chickens. Were animals dying from neglect in his backyard?

He looked down at himself and saw that, as usual, he had slept in his clothes. Rising, he headed outdoors, but could not summon any real hurry, for he had grown weak from lack of nourishment. As he left the patio and walked out past the orange trees, the sun felt so warm on his body that it brought a reflexive shiver. Chickens milled about, healthy-looking, excited by his arrival. The corral came into sight. He saw the burro and stopped short.

A young, golden-haired girl stood in the enclosure beside Paco, petting the animal, talking softly to him. Spock realized almost at once that the child was not Teresa, but the instant of shock left him shaky.

A bearded man stepped out of the shadows beside Paco's shed and approached him.

" _Bonjour_ ," Aaron Pascal said.

Spock was vaguely aware of the deliberate way his son-in-law looked him over, and realized how bedraggled he must appear. Unshaven, hair in disarray, clothing rumpled.

Resenting the intrusion on his privacy, he coldly said, "I came here to be alone."

Aaron nodded. " _Pardonnez-moi_. I didn't mean to disturb you, but T'Beth was worried."

Bethany came out of the corral, warily eyed Spock, and headed straight for Aaron. As Aaron reached out and drew her closer, Spock looked at the grandchild he had once treasured and wondered that he felt nothing for her now, felt nothing but the loss that continued to consume him. No wonder he frightened her.

" _Je vais bien_ ," Spock said, though he was not at all well.

Once more Aaron nodded, took Bethany, and left. Alone, Spock checked the animals' food and water, and saw to his relief that someone had already replenished them.

Later that day, he thought he heard a tapping at the back door. He ignored it. For a long while he lay in bed, flat on his back, unable to impose more sleep on his body. Instead, he was forced to deal with his thoughts. The grief was gnawing a hole inside him, tearing its way down to the deepest deposit of his fears.

He saw the problem clearly, and it was not at all new. All his Earth contemporaries—friends, family, and acquaintances—rapidly growing old before his eyes. Had Lauren lived, it would have been the same. Soon they would all be gone, while he continued on, looking younger than his years. Living among humans, the two hundred plus lifespan of a Vulcan could be a curse.

More and more Spock felt himself withdrawing from life. Perhaps, after all, he was dying, too. He found the idea of oblivion somewhat comforting, but at sunset a great thirst drove him into the bathroom where he stood at the sink drinking cup after cup of water. And he knew that at least his body was not yet ready to surrender.

That night he stayed awake in order to escape the dream anguish that now came regularly. He rummaged in the bedroom, found a fresh candle for Lauren's vigil light and set it in a new spot, as an attunement flame, away from her little religious shrine.

The shadows writhed with memories as he sat on the floor. Closing his eyes, he attempted to meditate in the old way, by emptying his mind. A wall of bitterness shut away all thought of any Other but himself.

God.

What God?

What holy, infinite Being would allow evil to prevail over innocence? Yanash had promised life, but through Sobek, he had brought death into the heart of Spock's family. If this was how God behaved, Spock wanted no part of Him.

oooo

" _Señor_."

At the sound of the childish voice, Spock turned, still holding the flake of hay he was about to give the burro. A black-haired girl of perhaps twelve was walking toward him. He had seen her before, playing with Teresa. She was one of his landlord's seven daughters, each of them beautiful in her own way. They lived on the adjoining property.

"Señor," she said again, and Spock noticed that she was carrying some sort of covered dish.

"Yes," he said, wanting only to be rid of her.

"I'm Rosa Valdez," she said shyly. "Mama noticed you were home and sends you this…to eat. I came by yesterday and knocked on the backdoor, but maybe you were busy. The chickens and the burro…Paco…we took care of them while you were indisposed." Her dark eyes glistened with tears. "Poor Teresita…and the Señora. We are so very sorry. We went to the Mass, but we didn't see you. It must be very hard." She glanced around. "Where is Jamie?"

The question took Spock aback, as if…for a time…he had forgotten that Teresa had a twin brother. He realized that he did not know whether James was with T'Beth or in Idaho. He also realized that he did not care.

"Yes, James. He is…away."

"Oh," Rosa said, clearly disappointed, with more feeling than Spock felt for his own son. She offered the dish. "Well, here it is—and the eggs. Mama saved those, if you want them."

Spock tossed Paco the hay, then reluctantly accepted the dish from Rosa. He was in the house before it occurred to him that he had not thanked her, nor mentioned that her family should keep the eggs. Such a lovely child, so full of life that it pained him. He hoped that she would not come back.

He meant to set the dish aside, but the aroma escaping it awakened an appetite that he had not experienced in days. He was lifting the cover when the front doorbell rang. Almost without thinking, he put down the food and went to the door.

There on the porch stood a fair-haired Vulcan in the clerical garb of a Yanashite. It was Earth's only priest, Kero.

Spock tensed and nearly closed the door in his face.

Kero smiled sadly. "Spock, you have not answered my calls and I was deeply concerned about your welfare."

"Well, you need not be," Spock bluntly told him.

There was an interval of silence that quickly became very awkward. Spock had no intention of inviting the priest inside.

Finally Kero said, "May I enter?"

With a painful twist in his heart Spock answered, "No, you may not. And please do not trouble me again."

Though it was unconscionably rude, Kero showed no sign of irritation. He merely said, "I will pray to the Shiav for you."

Spock gave in to a surge of anger and slammed the door.

oooo

T'Beth was excited. "I can't believe I'm getting him out of that house. I can't believe he's actually coming to dinner."

"He's not here yet," Aaron cautioned her.

But a few minutes later, Spock's skimmer settled onto the driveway.

T'Beth grasped Bethany by the shoulders and leaned close. "Now honey, remember. Grandfather might act a little different, but he still loves you. It's just that he misses Lauren and Teresa so much. We all do, but we're not going to talk about that tonight, okay? It just makes everyone sad."

"Okay Mommy," Bethany agreed, her Sy-amber eyes wide and solemn.

Spock descended on the house like a storm cloud. The black he wore accentuated his reed thinness, but he had shaved and he was clean, right down to the shaggy hair growing over his Vulcan ear tips.

T'Beth put her arms around him, but he was as stiff as a statue and it hurt that he did return the embrace. Forcing a smile, she tried to shake it off.

"It's so good having you here," she said. "Are you hungry?"

She knew at once that the question was a mistake. Whatever had become of him, a Vulcan respected truth, and she knew by his hesitation that he was not looking forward to the meal she had prepared.

Finally he said "I will eat," as if it was an unpleasant duty.

They sat down to meatless lasagna, salad, garlic bread, and wine. Wondering how Spock would react, T'Beth offered grace with her eyes open. As she prayed, he picked up his wine glass and swallowed down its entire contents. Her father, who had hardly ever done more than sip liquor.

Her stomach cinched tight and she did not offer him a refill. Dinner progressed with awkward attempts at conversation. Aaron tried his best to draw Father into a discussion of the earth changes along the Pacific Coast, a favorite subject in the past, but Spock responded only in monosyllables. "Yes." "No." "Indeed." "Perhaps."

Bethany watched her forbidding grandfather and picked at her food until she said, "Mommy, I don't feel very good. Can I go to bed?"

The child was three-quarters Sydok and empathetic enough to be sickened by this strange darkness that had come into their home. Right then, T'Beth knew that inviting her father had been a truly bad idea and instinct told her the evening would not end well.

"Go ahead, honey," she replied. "I'll be in later." She did not ask Bethany to tell her grandfather goodnight. He had not once looked at the child.

Now, with just the three adults at the table, T'Beth caught her husband's attention.

Taking the hint, Aaron announced, "Spock, T'Beth and I have some good news."

Father looked up from his plate with complete indifference—or worse, as if the whole affair bored him.

T'Beth felt tears threatening. She clenched her hands and fought them back. Struggling to keep her voice steady, she said, "Father, we're expecting a child…early next year."

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, but he was silent.

T'Beth felt her emotions wavering between anger and pity. Anger won out. Throwing down her napkin, she said, "Don't worry. We'll see that it doesn't inconvenience you in any way. Tell me, Father, why did you even bother to come here?"

He pushed back his chair and stood so abruptly that it nearly toppled. His eyes were black with a fury that froze T'Beth's heart.

"You wanted me to come," he said bitterly. "You banged on my door until I opened it, and you _pleaded_ with me to come…"

For a terrible moment they just stared at one another, and T'Beth realized that he truly had become a stranger. With the loss of Lauren and Teresa, the father she knew had died, and with him all the love he had once held toward her. It was a crushing thought, but within herself T'Beth found the core of strength that her father seemed to have misplaced. She did not weep or lash out at him, and the words that came from her mouth surprised her.

"Have you been to the cemetery? Have you seen what's written on their headstone? 'We have not died, but only gone before'." And she asked, "Has your Yanashite faith given you no comfort?"

He winced as if she had reached out and struck him. Turning, he strode out of the house, taking the darkness of hell with him.

Aaron sprang to his feet and followed.

"No, don't!" T'Beth called after him. She had glimpsed the rare look of anger on her husband's face, but he was already out the door.

Aaron caught up to Spock as he was about to get in his skimmer. His father-in-law turned and confronted him with an expression so icy and menacing that Aaron realized they might actually come to blows. Aaron was younger and more solidly built, but Spock was two inches taller and had all the strength of a Vulcan. It would not be much of a fight.

Drawing a deep breath, Aaron braced himself. "Sir, you behaved like an ass. Do you have any idea how badly you've upset your daughter?"

"I only spoke the truth," Spock replied in a brittle tone. "T'Beth is responsible for her own reactions to it."

Aaron's anger deepened. "Don't speak to me of responsibility! You have two sons who are still minors. Two sons you ignore as if they don't even exist. You are their father. Aren't _you_ responsible for _them?"_

The logic of his words seemed to have some small cooling effect on the Vulcan temper. Stiffly Spock said, "Simon has his music. James has Kirk."

"If only that was enough," Aaron told him, and went back into the house.

oooo

Spock awoke from a strange dream in which Lauren was frying bacon. It was something she had never done, for she knew how the odor disgusted him, even after he had become a Yanashite and could consume meat if he so desired. He had chosen not to.

Lying in bed, he shunted the dream memory to the depths of his mind, with the other wounds festering like poison. Brilliant sunlight streamed through the windows, promising another day well over 100 degrees, another day locked behind the walls of his own making.

A sound drew his attention—a clatter from the kitchen—and with a start he came fully awake and realized that the smell of food was something more than a fading dream. Logic told him that it was not Lauren, yet his heart clung insanely to hope.

Lunging out of bed, he rushed into the kitchen.

A woman stood at the stove. She turned, and seeing his disheveled state, her eyes warmed with sad affection. She was Vulcan in appearance, delicately built, with flaming red hair that fell in waves to her shoulders. Spock froze at the sight of T'Naisa Brandt, the wall inside him snapping firmly back into place.

 _"You!"_ he spat.

The sad look in her eyes deepened. Studying him, she left the stove and moved closer.

" _Qual se tu?"_ she said in passable Vulcan, then reverted to her native tongue. "I hadn't wanted to believe them. Spock, what has become of you?"

It was all he could do to keep from thrusting her out the door. "This is my home. You had no right to enter without my permission."

"Oh?" Her slanted eyebrow arched. "You mean, like the way you respected my mother's property rights on Vulcan when you broke and entered and carried me off in the night? Those property rights?"

That point, he could not argue. So he simply said, "Get out."

She did not move. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Spock. I'm here as a favor to Sorel. Word of your tragedy reached us on Vulcan, but we've been unable to contact you. Even here, you didn't answer your phone, you didn't open your door. So…"

"So you broke in."

She went back to the stove. Taking up a spatula, she divided bacon and eggs between two plates and set them on the kitchen table. Fork in hand, she dropped into a chair.

"Come on," she said, "eat."

"I do not ingest pig flesh," Spock replied icily.

Reaching out, she grabbed the bacon off his plate and transferred it to her own. "Good," she remarked, licking her greasy fingers. "I'm famished. I can get cranky if I miss a meal, and you look cranky enough for the both of us." She wolfed down a mouthful and glanced up at him. "Aren't you going to have breakfast? The eggs are good; they ought to be, they're from your own chickens. Oh, here…" She pushed a small brown sack across the table. "I bought some Bing cherries. Do you like _them?"_

The first intensity of Spock's anger had faded to mere annoyance. It almost seemed as if he were back in the commandant's office at Starfleet Academy and Cadet Brandt was trying to talk her way out of yet another disciplinary action. He found himself wondering if this was how she had always acquired such lenient sentences, while he was made to languish at Luna Correctional Facility for a crime he did not commit—a crime for which Brandt had, out of spite, framed him. But he had observed that alluring young women often received a lighter punishment than men. It would seem that "blind" justice was sometimes swayed by a pleasing feminine form.

It rather surprised Spock to find these old issues coursing through his mind. He thought that he had forgiven her once and for all. The true reason for these vengeful considerations did not occur to him— that in fact he had begun the process of discrediting T'Naisa because of her association with the Yanashite Community. She had become a well-known lecturer on the Shiav's Way. Now had she, of all people, been chosen by the Yanashite leadership to reprimand him? Coming from T'Naisa Brandt, such a scolding would be particularly offensive.

Spock stood watching her shove eggs and bacon into her mouth, his revulsion growing by the moment. Holding onto his temper, he said, "I would have expected Sorel to send my uncle instead of you."

"Sparn is busy overseeing our expansion at Baruk—that nice property you donated." She waved the last slice of bacon in his direction. "I bet you you've never actually tasted it, have you? How do you know you don't like it, if you haven't even tried it?"

Spock could bear no more of her and said, "I expect you out of here when I return."

He left for a long hot shower, and put on fresh clothes. Any hope that T'Naisa might have heeded his words withered when he entered the living room. The halfling sat comfortably in Lauren's favorite chair, devouring cherries from the bag in her lap. The table beside her held a collection of moist pits.

Glancing up at him, she said, "You look better…but you really should have shaved, too."

He glowered at her. "Do you ever stop eating?"

"Do you ever eat?" she countered, and offered him the crumpled bag of fruit. "Here, have some."

Spock took three swift steps and knocked the bag from her hand. The cherries spilled over the floor. Stunned, T'Naisa stared up at him for a moment, but never lost her composure.

"That wasn't nice," she said in a mild tone. "Not very sanitary, either. This floor has seen better days." She got down on her hands and knees and started picking up the fruit. "You've developed some very bad manners, my friend."

"I am not…your…friend," Spock said with slow, icy emphasis.

She put the last cherry into the bag. Rising to her feet, she stood too close for Spock's comfort, her brown eyes calm but very sad. Softly she said, "May the Shiav help you."

"So it begins," Spock said heatedly, and turning away, he went over to a window and stared out, hands clasped tightly behind his back. His gaze fell on some bare, brown canes protruding from the soil, and in his mind he saw Lauren bent over them, her hands dirty and her cheeks as pink as the roses she was planting. He shut his eyes tightly.

"Spock." T'Naisa's voice was gentle behind him. "Spock, tell me what you are feeling."

Clearing the grief from his face, he turned to her and asked with sarcasm, "Should I kneel? Perhaps you would like to view my sins?"

"That remark is beneath you," she said levelly. "I am no priest and never claimed to be. I'm here only to offer condolences for your terrible loss."

"Please!" he said with impatience. "As if you care anything at all about my family. As I recall, _you_ once claimed to have murdered them. You told me so…quite convincingly…as you held me at gunpoint in my academy office."

"But I _didn't_ kill them," she was quick to respond, "and I don't think I could have killed you, either."

"But you could damn well send me off to prison."

He had the satisfaction of seeing tears form in her eyes.

When at last she replied, her voice was hushed. "This is something more than grief. You've lost your faith—haven't you?"

"I have come to my senses." The words were said; it was out in the open. Spock headed off any talk of a loving Shiav. "I will tell you plainly what I think of Yanash. Clearly the man meant well, but more than one premise of his teachings was flawed. For instance—"

"Man?" T'Naisa interrupted. "Yanash is far more than a man."

"It is true," Spock said, "that Yanash displayed extraordinary powers for a Vulcan. In him, we may have seen the next step of our evolutionary development." The assertion stirred an uneasy pang inside him. Ignoring it, he went on. "Unfortunately, he erred by departing from the traditional interpretation of Surak's teachings."

"You've given this a lot of thought," T'Naisa observed. "Spock, how very wise you are. So it was an evolutionary mutant who brought your son James back from the dead. A mutant who recovered the fragments of His ruined body from the desert feeders and resurrected it entirely whole."

Spock ignored her and continued his own line of reasoning. "Yanash was wrong to encourage emotions, and I will cite a specific case as my proof. It is the story of a Vulcan youth. This young Vulcan began to trust in Yanash and gave freer rein to his emotions. For that reason, his mother and his betrothed rejected him. The day came when the youth found himself all alone in an alien world, and a fellow Yanashite accepted him into his family. But the young man had drifted from Yanashite ways and was left with many bitter emotions that he no longer knew how to control. One day, he took a knife into his hands…" Breaking off, he became aware that he was trembling. But he was not quite finished. "Yanash was wrong to encourage emotion in a Vulcan. Surak knew it; Vulcans are savages. For us, emotion is a torment. Emotions are dangerous. Emotion is the enemy."

A deep silence settled over the room.

T'Naisa looked into his eyes and said, "Your logic is flawed."

The dark churning of Spock's own emotions seemed to confirm his position. T'Naisa's cool self-assurance was aggravating. "You…an academy dropout…presume to correct me?"

"Perhaps," she said, "I am the only person who can. A halfling, like you—part human, part Vulcan. I know what it's like to feel torn in two. It's true that I don't have your education, but this isn't Starfleet Academy. You're not Commandant anymore, and you're not my teacher. Spock, now you're the one who needs to listen. It's _your_ logic that is flawed. By isolating yourself from God…and from all those who love you, you are in error. By withdrawing your love, you cause pain to everyone around you. By denying the value of emotion, you betray the love that your wife and daughter held for you. You betray _them."_

Spock exploded. "It is Yanash who betrayed them! He betrayed all of Vulcan!"

T'Naisa stood her ground, as placid as ever. "No, Spock. It is you who betrayed the Shiav—on Vulcan, and now again. You are angry with Yanash. In the way you hold a grudge, you are so like your father."

Infuriated, Spock seized her by the throat. With his fingers clamped on the Tal-Shaya pressure points, he said through his teeth, "Get out of here right now or I will break your neck!"

Her face blanched against her flaming hair. "Oh my God," she choked.

"You may take Him with you, as well," Spock said tersely, and shoving her from him, he strode away.

From his bedroom he heard the front door open and close. Then once more he was alone, and the house seemed very quiet.

oooo

James was on the phone and he was crying. As T'Beth talked with him, she reminded herself that tears were a good thing. He had always tended to hold things in when he was troubled, but seeing him so distraught tore at her, just the same. He was almost the image of his father at ten, just as Teresa had looked very much like her mother.

"Jamie," she said gently, "would you rather come live with us? I've decided to enroll Bethany in a Catholic school here. You could go together."

James sat with his elbow on Jim Kirk's table, looking down, forehead cradled in one hand. "But what about my father?" The words wrenched from him. "Doesn't he want me anymore? He won't even talk on the phone."

T'Beth felt a thickness gathering in her own throat. _Poor little brother._ She was sick of lying to him, sick of covering for a father who no longer seemed to care about any of them. But lie she did. "Of course Spock wants you. He loves you, Jamie, I know he does. Just give him a little time and things will get better."

Jamie sobbed, "He wishes I'd stayed home, doesn't he? Instead of Teresa. He wishes _she_ was the one still alive."

"No!" T'Beth said in horror. "That's not true!" Yet somewhere deep inside, she actually wondered.

Hadn't Simon voiced the same thought yesterday? At seventeen, Simon did not give in so easily to tears, but he was hurting. As a Yanashite, he had looked to Spock both as a father and as a spiritual example.

Suddenly an idea came to T'Beth and she said, "I heard from your brother. Simon's coming to Phoenix on a concert tour. Why don't we see if Jim can bring you? We can all have a nice visit and you can decide then where you want to live." And just maybe Jim could take the opportunity to talk some sense into their father.

Jamie thought about it and solemnly nodded.

After the call, T'Beth joined Aaron in the living room, where he was engrossed in some technical challenge that he had brought home from Research and Development. Now more than ever she was thankful for their careers in Starfleet. Her own work in Diplomatic Affairs gave her some much needed relief from personal problems.

She told Aaron about her plans for the upcoming concert and wondered aloud if she should try to invite Spock.

"I wouldn't," Aaron advised. "Those boys are having a hard enough time, as it is. Let Kirk do the talking—not that Spock will even open the door, but you never know."

T'Beth sighed and picked up the Bible she bought at Lourdes during their honeymoon. As she paged through the New Testament, she could not help thinking of that day and how different her father had been then.

Aloud she said, "Father smiled. The day I showed him this Bible, he smiled. A real smile, with teeth showing."

Aaron looked as if he did not quite believe it.

"I was upset about your lack of faith, and he warned me against being 'temperamental'. It's almost funny, isn't it? Look at him now."

She wondered if that wise, caring father still existed somewhere deep inside Spock. If only she could reach him, but she did not know how. He refused her calls, and after the painful things he had said over dinner, she was not eager to go "banging" on his door again.

Aaron was watching her. "That Bible really gives you comfort, doesn't it?"

She looked down at an epistle of John. "It's strange, but in these pages I really am finding a sense of peace…just like Father said I would. And now _he's_ so empty, so dark, so tormented." She read a now-familiar passage. "It says here that 'God is love'. If God is love, then by rejecting love, isn't Father also rejecting God? No wonder he's miserable." Again she quoted, "'Everyone who loves…knows God'."

Her eyes rose and met those of her husband. The day Aaron proposed marriage, he had promised to shower her with love, and now his abundant love was helping ease the wounds of loss and emotional abandonment.

"Aaron, darling," she said, "I think I know why you can't see God. It's because He's _inside_ you."

He understood that she meant love, and smiled warmly.

oooo

T'Naisa's departure left an odd, unexpected vacuum that Spock found difficult to fill. Where before he had craved isolation, the hour of social interaction—however abrasive—had somehow left him dissatisfied with his own company. Yet there was no one he wished to see and nothing at all he could say to them without creating shock or inviting criticism of his present state.

In a restive mood he wandered about the house, opening cabinets and drawers, searching aimlessly for something to catch his interest. High on a closet shelf, he came across an oblong container and froze at the sight of Lauren's flute case. Sick at heart, he stood staring at it for untold minutes.

Then, though he normally avoided the room, he was somehow in the kitchen. An unopened bottle was in his hand. Sauvignon Blanc. Cooking wine from Lauren's pantry.

Taking it into the living room, he cued up her favorite Tchaikovsky and downed the liquor in one sitting, straight from the bottle, while Swan Lake played. And for a time he slept, without dreams, utterly oblivious.

After three hours or so he awakened drunk. The phone was chiming and he had no memory of turning it on. As he sat up, the room swayed. It seemed very important to reach the phone. Rising to his feet in stages, he took a single step, staggered slightly, and made it over to the phone chair.

The chiming had ended, but he did not care. A warm, pleasant haze swirled between him and his grief, relaxing the ever-present tension that was part of his hybrid nature. Doctor McCoy was right. Liquor did sometimes help. No wonder Jim Kirk had indulged in it so freely when he was confined to a wheelchair.

There was another form of release that Spock knew far better, the memory of which never completely left him. Thinking of that forbidden pleasure now, the memory grew strong and forceful, like a hunger long unsatisfied. Last summer he had viewed an expose´ about a new oral derivative of mainline Saurian Strardus. Called "Blue", the illegal drug was fast becoming a scourge. Envisioning the deep azure capsules, he scrolled through his neglected phones messages, 417 in all, steadfastly deleting those for which he had no interest. Many of the names showed repeatedly. James Kirk, T'Naisa Brandt, Harper Publishing, James S'chn T'gai, Starfleet Command, Cristabeth Pascal, Elizabeth Fielding, Leonard McCoy, Aaron Pascal, Lawrence Fielding, S'chn T'gai Sparn, Montgomery Scott, Simon S'chn T'gai, Nyota Uhura, Vatican City, Antonia Kirk, Hikaru Sulu, T'lk D'ro Kero, and Leopold Kessler.

Kessler. Each time, the name caught Spock's eye and he hesitated, blinking away the wine-induced fog. Each time he deleted the message, unviewed.

And there it was, yet again. Leopold Kessler. Only now, with that name, two thoughts became as one.

Spock put Kessler's message on the screen.

"Hullo…Spock!" The blond bear of a man leaned toward the screen, as if trying to impel Spock to answer. "Dammit, aren't you ever home? Call me back, I'm in Flagstaff now. I bet you love it here in Arizona, it's hot as blazes. In case you didn't get my other messages, I heard the news about your wife and kid. Tough break. Let me know what I can do. _Call_ me, you stubborn Vulcan son-of-a-bitch."

Deep inside Spock, the hunger sharpened.

Among his acquaintances, Leo Kessler was unique. Roughened by incarceration, but loyal and emotionally undemanding. Together they had survived the brutality and injustices of the corrupt Luna prison, and later served time at another. "Behind bars", Leo had been Spock's only friend. Would he be willing to help him now?

Spock was beginning the process of placing a call when he stopped to analyze his sobriety, but his judgment was too badly impaired to reach a meaningful conclusion. Hoping that he would not slur his words too noticeably or embarrass himself in other ways, he made the connection.

oooo

Two days later, Leo Kessler arrived. Spock had shaved for the occasion, and the toxic effects of his excessive alcohol consumption had faded considerably. Any momentary awkwardness fled as Leo grinned, held him at arm's length, then clapped him on the back. Leo made no mention of Spock's inebriated state during the phone call; as always, he demanded very little response. It felt to Spock as if the intervening years had melted away and they were back at Luna, only this time the prison door was inside him, as cold and hard as durasteel.

Uninvited, Leo toured the house and property while Spock followed him around. Leo did not speak of the deaths and Spock had not expected that he would, for Kessler himself had been convicted of murder. As a commander aboard Starfleet's U.S.S. Ranger, he had sent the crewman who stole his wife on a suicide mission.

Back inside, they sat in the living room and Leo told the story of his evacuation from Long Beach, where he had worked at a desalinization plant after his release from Romar Penal Colony. "I came to Flagstaff with my sister's family, but there weren't enough jobs to go around, so for now I'm drawing a relocation check. I'm in line for a position at a factory that's opening next month." He paused. "So…what do you do? Are you working?"

It was the first question Leo had asked, and it made Spock uncomfortable. After a moment of thought he simply said, "I have my Starfleet retirement." There were also royalties from his book "Betrayal and Redemption", but that would have led to a distasteful religious discussion.

"Retirement," Leo mused. Leaning back in his armchair, he put his hands behind his head and stretched out his long legs. "Must be nice. But what do you _do_ —I mean, here by yourself, all day long."

"Very little, aside from some computer chess," Spock found himself admitting, and his tone was bitter. "Leo, about that matter I mentioned on the phone…"

Leo studied him and said, "Yes, my friend, I haven't forgotten."

Spock was anxiously awaiting Leo's next words when the doorbell rang. On any other day he would have ignored it, but Leo was watching him expectantly. Feeling pressured by the situation, Spock went over to the door and opened it.

James Kirk stood on the porch and he was not smiling.

"Well, at least you came to the door," Jim said tartly. "Now are you going to invite me in?"

Reluctantly Spock stepped aside.

Jim came into the living room, spied Leo and exclaimed, "Kessler! What's he doing here?"

"He," Spock replied coldly, "is my friend."

Jim looked back and forth between the two of them. "Spock, the man's a killer. The man killed his—" Jim saw Leo stiffen, and fell silent.

It seemed to Spock that there was a fight brewing and he felt dangerously close to striking the first blow.

Jim focused on Spock. "Oh, I see," he said heatedly. "While you ignore your family, this fellow gets free run of the place. Did you even know that Jamie's in town? Did you know Simon's coming for a concert tomorrow? Of course not. You're too busy hanging out with your prison pal to answer the phone."

Leo lunged to his feet. Even from across the room, he clearly towered over Jim.

"Leave the man alone," Leo advised. "Kirk, you're nothing but a busted admiral, and retired, at that."

Jim ignored him and kept his eyes on Spock. "You think Jamie wants me for his father. Well, you're wrong. He wants you, and I'm sick of trying to make up excuses for the way you treat him. You're tearing that boy apart."

The words struck Spock hard and his anger faded to a dull sense of shame. Quietly he admitted, "I no longer have anything to give him…or Simon."

 _"Yourself,"_ Jim urged. "Just give them _yourself._ That's all they want."

"I cannot."

For a moment Jim stood there, his face flinty with anger. Then he grabbed Spock by the front of his shirt, shoved him into a chair, and snapped, "Go ahead! Sit there and rot while your sons go to hell!"

Leo started after Jim, but standing his ground, Jim faced him with all the authority of a starship captain. Leo stopped short, his hands balled into fists.

Once again Jim turned to Spock, only now he seemed more disappointed than angry. _"Think_ man," he pleaded. "Don't you give a damn about anyone?"

When Spock gave no answer, he left without a backward glance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The concert was over. Simon and James had gone their separate ways without once seeing their father. For T'Beth, it was another heavy disappointment. Though Aaron advised against it, she had set her hopes on Jim somehow breaking through the shell that Spock had fashioned around himself these past months. With Jim's failure all hope seemed gone, yet she refused to give up.

The hour was late and they should be sleeping, but a bedside lamp still shone. T'Beth lay beside Aaron discussing what Simon had said about a Yanashite who visited him in New York. T'Beth had known T'Naisa Brandt before the halfling's conversation, back when she caused a great deal of trouble for the family. When T'Naisa visited Simon, she told him that she had met with Spock. She asked Simon to pray for his father because Spock had turned his back on the Shiav. The news confirmed everything that T'Beth had already suspected.

Now she asked, "Does it make you glad…about Father leaving the Yanashites?"

"Heavens no," Aaron replied, a remarkable choice of word for an unbeliever. "His views might not have been scientific, but they were something he felt strongly about. Now, that also is lost to him."

With her hands under her head, she said, "I think you've just put your finger on the problem. He's suffering from something more than grief…or even guilt for bringing that boy into his home. He must be wrestling with the age-old question: If there is a God, why does He allow evil? Evil feels like a betrayal when it hurts us or the ones we love. But Father _knows_ the answer, and so did Lauren. I heard it directly from both of them. God gives us free will because without it there can be no love. Unfortunately the exercise of free will also opens the door to evil. But in the midst of trouble, God is always there, ready to strengthen us, ready to bring good _out_ of evil…if only we turn to Him. We have to _ask_ for His help, otherwise He would not be respecting our free will."

Sleepily Aaron said, "I think you've just talked yourself into a circle."

T'Beth scarcely heard him. "I'm willing to bet that he hasn't turned to God—not once since it happened, or else he would have found the strength and healing he needs."

Aaron reached out and pulled her close to him. The unborn child inside her stirred as they held one another.

 _"You're_ being strong," he said.

She gently fingered his neatly trimmed beard. "Because, darling, you aren't the only one holding me."

He raised his head off the pillow and his eyes widened at her with mock indignation. "There's someone else?"

She smiled. "You know Who I mean."

Aaron grew serious. Caressing her dark hair, he gazed into her eyes and said, "This is the closest I've come to believing in God since I was a boy."

T'Beth's heart skipped a beat. All but holding her breath, she waited. "And why is that?"

"You…and your father." Aaron lay back and stared at the ceiling. "The loss of religious faith has affected Spock very negatively, while your strong faith has a decidedly positive effect on you. For every effect, there must surely be a cause."

Smiling, T'Beth turned off the light, and in her heart she embraced Aaron's unnamed Cause as the source of true and lasting peace.

oooo

Spock had never been inclined to cook, and since Leo was hungry, he gave his friend free run of the kitchen, where Leo produced a pot of stew. What little appetite Spock possessed had abandoned him altogether in the wake of Jim Kirk's visit. He managed at most a bite or two of vegetables while Leo sat across the kitchen table enjoying the food.

In the depths of Spock's soul, something murky had roiled up, and the guilt it gave off threatened to choke him. He found himself staring at the floor in front of the sink. Though it had been weeks since he gave in to tears, suddenly he was very close to losing control. He did not know how long Leo had been watching him before he became aware of it. Sighing, he pushed his plate aside, lowered his head into his arms, and tried to focus on his breathing, which sometimes helped.

"Sick?" Leo asked.

Head down, Spock said, "Did you bring it?"

"Maybe I did," he answered, "and maybe I didn't. You're putting me in one helluva spot. You call me your friend, but what kind of a friend would give you that crap?"

Gathering his last shreds of composure, Spock sat up straight and declared, "I can control it."

Leo hooted. "Oh, sure you can. Just like all those others." Pausing to swallow the food in his mouth, he said, "Tell me one thing, will you? Back at Luna…those drugs that the guard found under your mattress…they really _were_ yours?"

"No," Spock said truthfully, "they were not. Testimony at the subsequent trial proved that they were planted at Warden Cho's direction." He was beginning to feel like a beggar, and he did not like it. "As for the Blue—is it a matter of money? I will pay you well."

Leo washed down the stew with cold beer. "Money? No. Here's the deal. You need to get out of this damn house. Just take a little vacation with me, then it's all yours."

 _A vacation?_ It seemed to Spock that these past months had been an endless, desolate vacation from everything that once gave his life purpose and direction. He was adrift in a sea of inactivity.

He said, "I am not working. How then could I need a vacation?"

Leo stabbed at the air with his fork. "Sometimes you have to leave, before you can come home again."

"That," Spock said with some annoyance, "is stating the obvious."

"A getaway, Spock. A change of scene. An old-fashioned road trip."

"Travel? For pleasure?"

Leo nodded and took another large bite.

Images flashed into Spock's mind—all tourist destinations he had shared with Lauren.

He shook his head adamantly. "No. I have no desire to travel."

"Oh, I don't mean just ambling around taking pictures," Leo persisted. The fork looked small in his hand as he jabbed at the air again. "I have more of an adventure in mind, something that would arouse your scientific curiosity."

"Such as?" Spock inquired with some skepticism.

Leo smiled, his gray eyes sparkling with excitement. "The Pacific Coast."

Spock was weary of the discussion. "Leo, an evacuation order is in effect."

"So?"

They shared a long look.

"Think of it, Spock! Standing on ground zero while the whole western seaboard is falling to pieces around you! Now, that's what I call an adventure."

Spock _was_ thinking of it, as well as the consequences of violating an emergency mandate. Somewhat to his surprise, he found that he did not give a damn about the consequences. At this point there was only one consequence that mattered. Give Leo the trip, and Leo would deliver the Blue.

oooo

On the way home from Starfleet's growing Phoenix base, T'Beth stopped to see for herself what the satellite images had been showing all week. From the street she could see Leo Kessler's groundcar parked in her father's driveway. Spock's skimmer was not on its pad.

Her eyes settled on a rose bush shriveled by the scorching heat. For a minute she sat there, the motor idling, remembering something Jamie had said about Lauren planting it on the day she died. T'Beth felt a sharp pang of longing for her stepmother and Teresa, for a father who was something more than a cold-hearted stranger.

 _Where was he?_

A fearful possibility sidled into her mind. She had never trusted Kessler. What if the convicted murderer had killed Spock and stolen the skimmer? Another body lying in this accursed house, waiting to be found…

With a shudder she raised her car to a hover and soared over to the neighboring property where Father's landlord lived. This house was considerably larger, but built in the same classic Spanish style and beautifully landscaped.

T'Beth stepped out into the heat and was arranging her uniform over her expanding middle when three raven-haired girls, as lovely as dolls, rushed over. She recognized Rosa, Jacinta, and Consuelo, who used to play with Teresa. Their mother came out of the house, wiping her hands on her apron. She was a short, stout woman with an infectious smile.

"Mrs. Valdez," T'Beth said in greeting, and got right to the point. "I've been a little worried about my father. Have you seen him lately?"

Mrs. Valdez shook her head sadly. "Poor man. He went off with his friend for a while, and that is probably a good thing. He spends far too much time by himself."

T'Beth breathed a sigh of relief. Father had gone on a trip, that was all.

Little Consuelo, who was no older than Bethany, spoke with excitement. "We're taking good care of Paco and the chickens. He said he would pay us when he got back, but we don't know when that will be." She paused for a quick breath. "Will Teresita be with him?"

Mrs. Valdez shushed her and began to apologize.

"It's alright," T'Beth said with a heavy heart. "My Bethany sometimes asks about her, too. The little ones don't understand."

Hesitantly Rosa said, "The señor, he brought us into the house before he left. He opened Teresita's bedroom. He told us to take whatever we liked because he wanted to get rid of it. There were many nice things, but it didn't seem right to us. I think maybe he was a little angry that we didn't take anything. We didn't mean to make him angry."

"I know," T'Beth told her without offering any excuse for his behavior.

Rosa asked, "Isn't Jamie ever coming back?"

T'Beth had no answer.

oooo

As Spock piloted his skimmer over the broken landscape, he vacillated between shock over the devastation and a peculiar satisfaction in being here, at this place and time in history, in order to see it for himself. But always working in his mind was the thought, _if none of this had happened, if there had been no tsunami, if Sobek had not come to live with us…_

By adjusting the skimmer's coil inducer, he had created a field that would confuse any monitoring device they might encounter. Flying low, they had managed to escape detection as they traveled north from Yuma, into the remnant of California.

Los Angeles no longer existed. The ocean extended through the Mojave Desert, into Death Valley. A few peaks were all that remained of California's Coastal Range, which was still in the process of breaking apart and settling into the Pacific. In many cases, ocean waves were lapping against the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

The skimmer's positioning system told Spock that he had entered the region formerly known as the San Joaquin Valley, yet there was only water below. To the northwest, Carmel and San Francisco had vanished weeks earlier in an earthquake so powerful that it rattled windows even in Phoenix. Nothing remained of the areas where he had once lived with his family.

Wordlessly he brought the skimmer into a hover and informed Leo that he needed to rest. Switching positions, Spock inclined the passenger seat to a comfortable level and closed his eyes.

"Where do you want to go?" Leo asked.

"I don't care," Spock replied. He had lost all interest in their illicit adventure. A yawning blackness inside him had reopened, sucking him down like quicksand, and he found himself longing more than ever for the release that only Strardus could bring.

At some point he drifted off to sleep.

 _…Teresa's voice woke him. "Daddy? Daddy, look!"_

 _Spock opened his eyes. Lauren was at the skimmer's controls. He glanced into the back seat and found Teresa and James strapped in._

 _Teresa's face flushed with excitement as she pointed out her window, to the west. "Look, Daddy! See it?"_

 _Spock looked and saw a line of dark clouds trailing precipitation. Sunlight on the raindrops created a brilliant rainbow, but it was Teresa and Lauren who held his attention. In the dream, he knew they were dead. Though they knew it, too, they did not seem to care. The two of them were content just to have this moment with him, as if they had merely dropped in for a visit…_

A painful rush of emotion wrenched Spock awake.

Leo heard him gasp and glanced his way. "You okay?"

Spock struggled to compose himself. Bringing his seat upright, he gazed out the windshield at a broken landscape and asked, "Where are we?"

"Upper Sacramento Valley."

Leo checked the GPS and headed for a solid spit of land tucked among some hills. He brought the skimmer down in a browned-out meadow studded with oak trees. Nearby, crows perched on the remains of a collapsed building.

"Mountain Gate," Leo said. "This is where I grew up."

Before Spock's marriage to Lauren, they had accompanied T'Beth and Doctor McCoy to the VantageWest amusement park nearby. Memories were following him everywhere.

Now Leo also seemed to grow somber as he confronted the ghosts in his own past. The sun was getting low on the horizon. This would have been a good place to make their camp, but suddenly Leo launched the skimmer southward, to Redding.

The former county seat had been flattened by earthquakes and further devastated when two dams gave way. Leo circled and found the new Sacramento River estuary at the base of Quartz Hill. They flew upriver in silence.

"Keswick Dam," Leo announced.

Spock gazed down at the ruined structure with little interest, and they continued up the canyon.

"Shasta Dam will be something," Leo said. "It was big to start with, and later on they raised it even higher."

The skimmer twisted along the river, so low that Spock saw a fish jump. The dam came into view. Its central structure had broken into jagged rubble through which the river channeled, creating treacherous rapids.

Leo entered the empty basin of Lake Shasta, swung around, and landed by the rusted remains of a formerly submerged construction tower. This time they got out of the skimmer. The Central Valley heat had given way to a cool coastal climate, so Spock put on his jacket. A shiver caught him and he thrust his hands into his pockets. Underfoot, the ground was marred by deep cracks that had formed as the super-saturated lakebed dried. Sea birds strutted about and circled overhead. To the north, a plume of volcanic smoke rose from Mount Shasta.

Spock stood with Leo on the barren bank of the Sacramento River where it gathered force and thundered through the cleft in the dam. _Sacramento—_ the religious connotation of the name disturbed him. A sudden gust of wind swirled mist into his face, bringing with it a cutting memory of the Seleyan ledge where Yanash was executed. Water geysered from that ledge now—an abundant fountain where no water had ever been detected before. His mind struggled for a scientific explanation before he finally gave up.

Abruptly he faced Leo and said, "Enough of this. I am tired of waiting. Either you have the Blue or you don't."

Leo bristled. "Is that all I am to you? Okay then, here's the Vulcan truth. I wouldn't touch that stuff for all the world, and I sure as hell wouldn't give it to a grieving friend."

So Kessler had duped him! Spock had suspected as much. Abruptly he lost all control, and setting aside finer methods of combat, swung at the big man's jaw. Leo saw it coming and dodged. Infuriated, Spock went for him again. This time he connected and Leo returned with a solid punch to Spock's face. The force of the blow sent Spock back only a step, but that was all it took. The bank gave way under his shoes and he plunged into the rushing river.

The icy shock of the water stole his breath. For a moment he was floundering, then the sodden weight of his clothing dragged him under.

oooo

Suddenly, T'Beth shivered. She glanced up from the gravesite where she stood holding a spray of gardenias. A cloud had blown over the sun, but the temperature was well above 100 degrees. The chill she felt had nothing to do with the weather.

Sinking to her knees, she placed the fragrant white flowers at the base of the double granite headstone, then rested back on her heels, looking at it.

 **Lauren Fielding S'chn T'gai ~~~Teresa Lauren S'chn T'gai**

 **"We have not died, but only gone before."**

Tears filled her eyes. "I miss you," she said, barely above a whisper. "So does he. It's just about finished him." She had come to pray for Lauren and Teresa. Instead, she found herself asking for their prayers. "I don't know where he is, but he needs your help."

And bowing her head, she put father into God's keeping.

oooo

Blind panic set in as the current drew Spock deep into the channel. He surfaced once, sucked in some air, then the river pulled him back under and hurled him into the cleft. His body slammed from one obstacle to the next. Clinging to life, he clawed at the water, desperate to survive.

He impacted yet another object. This one stopped him. Lungs aching, held in place by the raging current, he felt along a jagged edge and moved upward until his mouth cleared the water.

Gasping for breath, he called out a plea taught by his mother in earliest boyhood. " _Oekon'sa-mekh!"_

It was a human-inspired corruption of the language, for until Yanash, no Vulcan had ever addressed God as "Father". Once Sarek heard it, he forbade its use.

The swift current threatened to sweep Spock away. His strength was failing when he noticed a piece of rebar and grabbed hold of it. Little by little he muscled himself onto the relative safety of a concrete slab. For a time he lay there, shivering and spent, with the river crashing around him.

It was then that he heard his name spoken, though not by any voice.

 _"Spock."_

Fog had rolled in from the ocean. Shivering uncontrollably, he called out, "Leo?"

 _"Spock."_ It came again, clearly, from somewhere within his mind.

He sat up and saw the metal rod he had used to pull himself out of the river. A similar piece of rebar jutted from each corner of the concrete. The image shifted to one from his past and he covered his face in an attempt to avoid it. He did not want to be reminded of that terrible day on Mount Seleya, of the slab where Yanash was impaled and left to die.

A powerful Presence touched him and warmed him, casting a ray of light deep into his being. Spock drew back. The Shiav had come for an accounting and Spock was appalled at the state of his soul.

Once more, the unseen hand found him, and this time Spock did not move away. This time he clung to it as tightly as he had clung to the piece of rebar, and he wept angry tears.

"Why?" he cried out. "Why did you let me bring Sobek into my home? Why couldn't I have reached him? Why did you let him kill?"

 _"Sobek closed his heart to me, just as you have closed yours."_ The light penetrated deeper. _"My son…"_

It was the cry of a Father for His lost child, and as never before, Spock understood. There was no need for any further words. The resistance in his heart gave way to surrender, acceptance, trust. And out of his brokenness there began a true healing.

The fog lifted. Sunlight broke through. Spock heard the roar of the river and Leo calling out.

"Hullo! Spock! Are you alright?"

Spock looked over and glimpsed Leo climbing down some debris, coming toward him. For the first time he saw that the slab bordered the shore. He was not stranded. He stood, and only then realized that his clothes were completely dry.

Oblivious to the fact, Leo came over grinning and seized him with bearlike hands. "Thank God! For a minute, I thought I'd killed you!"

Spock looked upon his friend with appreciation and said, "Yes. Thank God."

oooo

They were no longer wandering without purpose. Spock chose the itinerary and flew northeast, out of the evacuation zone, and landed for the night in a remote corner of Nevada.

It was almost dark when Leo set up the tent. A warm breeze stirred and coyotes could be heard barking and howling in the distance. Due to Leo's foresight, they had ample self-heating meal packs, so they ate under the stars with the aid of a camp light.

It was a quiet meal and as they were finishing, Spock said, "Leo, you have been a good friend to me. My request was entirely inappropriate and I will never ask such a thing of you again." He went on to explain why the drug held an allure for him, how he had once had a fatal disease and his future wife gave him Saurian Strardus as a palliative treatment.

Leo was aghast. "Lauren did _that?"_

"She had no way of knowing that I would survive," Spock said in her defense. "I don't blame her for my addiction."

"You make it sound like you're still addicted."

"A recovered addict is, nevertheless, an addict."

At that Spock excused himself and withdrew a short way into the desert. He needed time alone to assimilate the events of the day, for he had received a great _da'rak—_ a great spiritual grace at the hand of Yanash. As the summer moon rose, he assumed the posture of meditation, chanted for a time, and opened his soul to the Shiav. The drug hunger had subsided and he could feel the wounds of grief starting to knit. Tonight Lauren and Teresa did not seem very far away. It was as if they stood just out of sight, safe from harm in a place of comfort and joy, awaiting Spock's arrival. Even so, it pained him. He spent half the night seeking strength for the long road ahead.

oooo

Jim Kirk heard a distant rumble of thunder and glanced up, concerned. With Antonia in the loft painting and Tru taking her nap, the house was very quiet. He set aside the leather-bound book he was reading, took off his glasses, and headed outside to check the weather. The sky was sunny, except for a few clouds to the east. The boys should be okay.

As he stood on the porch, a different sort of sound drew his attention. He turned and saw a shaggy-haired man in casual clothes striding toward the house. His face was stubbled with whiskers and his cheekbone was bruised, but there was no mistaking his identity.

Startled, Jim said, "Spock!"

"Good day, Jim," the Vulcan said politely, stopping a few feet away. Glancing over the corral and outbuildings, he asked, "Where is James?"

"Out riding," Jim answered, "with Simon."

Under the hair, one eyebrow lifted. "I did not know Simon was here."

"No, I imagine you wouldn't," Jim could not resist saying, and the pent anger spilled out. "Where the _hell_ have you been? Do you have any idea how you've worried your family, taking off like that? Where's your skimmer? What did you do—beam in?"

Spock gave a nod eastward. "Leo Kessler is with the skimmer…just over the rise." Then he said, "If I may use a horse, I could perhaps ride out and find the boys."

Jim's jaw dropped. "You! On a horse?" He was fully aware of the Vulcan's low opinion of riding. If Spock was asking for a horse, it proved how urgently he wanted to see his sons. Something in him had changed for the better—Jim clearly saw that now.

He saddled a docile appaloosa mare. After a brief review of the basics, he saw Spock onto the horse, then sent him off with directions to Jamie's favorite trail. Jim was heading for the house when Spock pulled up on the reins and turned the horse around.

"Jim!" Spock called out. "Please call T'Beth and tell her I am coming home!"

Jim raised a hand in acknowledgement. As Spock rode away, he stood wishing very much that he was going along for this ride.

oooo

T'Beth leaned back in her chair and absently tapped a stylus on her desktop. It was nice having her own office, with no one looking over her shoulder every moment. Her transfer from Sydok had brought with it a promotion to lieutenant commander, as well as a new position: Assistant Chief of Diplomatic Affairs. It was her job to ensure that all Starfleet personnel receive the cultural-sensitive training appropriate for their particular assignments. The responsibility required constant research, but just now her mind was elsewhere.

Back on her father, again. Concern for Spock lay heavily on her heart as she turned once again to her computer.

She noticed a faint click, and the masculine voice of her yeoman broke over the desktop intercom. "There's a call for you, ma'am. From Captain James T. Kirk."

Her heart seized. What was so important that it couldn't wait until she got home? Was something the matter with Jamie?

Swallowing a sudden dryness from her throat, she said, "Put it through."

Jim appeared on her viewscreen, smiling in the warm Kirk way that always tugged at her heart. Without preliminaries he said, "Well, kiddo, you'll never guess who I was just talking to."

He had not called her "kiddo" in years. And that twinkle in his eyes—there could only be one reason for it. "Don't tell me it's my father?"

"In the Vulcan flesh. He just rode out of here to get his sons."

 _"Rode?_ You mean on a horse?"

Jim nodded. "And he gave me a message for you…"

oooo

Spock had been on horseback for nearly an hour and was beginning to think that he had chosen the wrong trail. Occasionally he heard thunder. The storm was moving closer, driven by sporadic gusts that sighed through the conifers, restlessly stirring their dark branches.

He reached the top of a hill and pulled back on the reins. All along, the horse seemed to have sensed that he was an inexperienced rider. Fighting the restraint, she paced and pawed at the earth. From a meadow below came a nickering sound.

Spock eased up on the reins and the horse needed no urging. She took off down the slope, accelerating into a heart-stopping gallop as the ground leveled. Suddenly Spock passed a pair of saddled horses drinking from a creek, and he jerked the reins. His horse plunged to a stop, nearly unseating him. He was fighting to regain control of the animal when someone walked up and grabbed hold of its bridle. The horse steadied.

Spock looked down at the young man and discovered that it was Simon. His eyes—vividly blue like his mother's—held shock, suspicion, and more than a little anger. James came over to his brother and stood very close to him. The younger boy stared at Spock's bruised, unshaven face, waiting to see what fresh pain this stranger might inflict on him.

Gathering himself, Spock dismounted and cleared his throat. "Simon," he said, "James…" The words choked off as he thought of their mother, their sister, so cruelly torn from their young lives. In this world, their family would never be whole again.

Sudden tears welled, and he could not stop them. He had not planned it this way. He had meant to be strong for his sons. Embarrassed by his weakness, he turned from their eyes and struggled to regain control.

From the depths of his grief he became aware of a hand touching his left forearm. Then another, larger hand settled on his right shoulder. As his sons' arms went around him, Spock reached out and crushed them close. For a while they stood silently by the creek, with the wind in the trees and the horses grazing nearby. Then it was time to go home.

oooOOooo


End file.
